


Repaying

by kakkoweeb



Series: Celebrations [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, M/M, oikawa Suffers™ a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-08 00:53:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8823469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakkoweeb/pseuds/kakkoweeb
Summary: When he’d shown up to class that morning wielding a decorative paper bag along with his regular school bag, his friends had begun cooing immediately, wondering who it was that was special enough to merit a gift [that’s actually wrapped, anyway] from one Oikawa “I don’t just give anyone my gifts” Tooru.
Or, alternatively: how to inconspicuously plant a gift inside your kouhai’s locker, featuring Oikawa Tooru, Kageyama Tobio, and the members of the Karasuno and Seijoh volleyball teams, all of whom are never, ever going to let Oikawa live this down.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for those of you who read [Remembering](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7538506%22) before clicking on this, you'll notice that it's now in a series. weelll this is the continuation i kind of hinted at back when i wrote it in july lmao. the series is entitled Celebrations so basically it's going to be a collection of oikage holiday fics that may or may not go on indefinitely until i expire. that being said, i definitely do have one more installment planned (and it's hinted here again i love pain) sooo
> 
> yes. more completely self-indulgent, awkward oikages, because they're still too naive to be anything else.

When he’d shown up to class that morning wielding a decorative paper bag along with his regular school bag, his friends had begun cooing immediately, wondering who it was that was special enough to merit a gift [that’s actually wrapped, anyway] from one Oikawa “I don’t just give _anyone_ my gifts” Tooru. And if they’d been annoying then, they became insufferable the moment Iwaizumi remembered that Kageyama’s birthday was sometime in the winter and that he’d given Oikawa cake months ago; and it had taken an entire ten-minute discussion to convince them that it was nothing, Oikawa couldn’t care less about Tobio-chan, and that he had planned it so they weren’t even going to see each other.

Seven hours of class and a short trip to Karasuno High School later, however, Oikawa found himself utterly blank. He honestly felt that he’d given this a lot of thought: he’d decided that the gift shouldn’t be too special, seeing as this was obligatory more than anything, and so he’d gone with a box of pocky and a small chain with a plastic volleyball hanging on the edge, figuring that the combination of the two probably measured up to an accidental cake; and that he’d head to Karasuno during their practice and sneak into the locker room, locate something of Tobio’s, and stow the gift inside it before fleeing for the hills. No awkward encounters, no explanations—just a debt repaid.

But apparently, he’d overestimated himself. Getting to Karasuno, entering the campus grounds unnoticed, and even picking the lock to the clubroom were the easy parts. Now he was inside something akin to a storage closet with rusty lockers and odd pictures plastered on the walls and found no mess of belongings on the floor, no labels or clues as to who owned which locker, no indication that Tobio even owned anything inside the room to begin with.

_Where was he going to put this paper bag?_

Oikawa, standing stiffly at the center of the room, examined the thing. It was small, just enough for a box of biscuits to fit inside, with red and green stripes printed on it. He hadn’t bothered placing a card of any sort out of fear that someone might see, read, and judge him [not that it mattered; Iwa-chan, Makki, and Mattsun were all very quick to judge him] but even if he had, he didn’t think he’d want to leave the bag on the floor for the entirety of Karasuno to ogle the minute they got back. They’d find out it was for Tobio and that wouldn’t be so bad if they wouldn’t also figure out that it was for Tobio _from Oikawa_ and that would be bad, really bad.

In his panic he found himself asking why he’d worked so hard, bothered to travel all the way here just to give his sworn enemy a volleyball keychain and a snack he could've kept for himself. It was ridiculous, to say the least, but every time he stretched his palm out enough he could still feel the underside of the small box of milk cake he’d brought home in July, and he could still remember the heat that had risen in his cheeks when he remembered that Tobio had bought it with him in mind, so he set his jaw and decided to leave the questioning for later, to focus his mind, instead, on what to do about the matter at hand.

This was a lot more complicated than he thought it would be, though. Oikawa sighed and resignedly reached for his phone inside his pocket. Calling Iwaizumi about his problems was something he regularly did, and though he had a feeling that this particular problem would get him something worse than a plain scolding, he stood his ground until Iwaizumi finally picked up after five whole rings.

“Have you infiltrated Karasuno?” was his greeting instead of the customary hello, and Oikawa didn’t need super-hearing to know that Makki and Mattsun were making snooty remarks from somewhere close by.

“Yes, I have,” Oikawa huffed, and then he was gripping the phone tightly and adding in an urgent sort of whisper, “ _and I better not be on speaker, Iwa-chan.”_

“No promises. Anyway, what’s going on?”

Why did Oikawa even bother? He let out a breath to calm himself down, considered hanging up for a brief second before figuring that being teased was better than standing blankly in the middle of a room which had been locked before he’d come along. “I don’t know where I can put the gift,” he admitted, a little hurriedly for several reasons. “Everything’s a lot cleaner than I thought it would be and I don’t know which locker is Tobio’s.”

He hadn’t expected laughter immediately but it was what he received, in three different condescending voices. _Of course_ he was on speaker; his friends really were the best in the world. “What did you expect?” said an amused Hanamaki. “That this one locker would just have ‘I heart Oikawa-san’ scribbled on it with marker and that’s how you’d know which locker is Kageyama’s?”

 _“No,”_ he cried, absolutely scandalized. “I don’t know what I expected, okay, but apparently it wasn’t this. What do I do?”

“Why can’t you just give it to him personally?” asked Iwaizumi, as if it wasn’t the dumbest question anyone could ask right now. “He gave you that cake personally, right? We even laughed at him right before.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because he was being an idiot. It was his own fault,” he replied, and he placed a hand on his chest like there was someone around to see what kind of personal distress he was in. “This is me being a nice person, Iwa-chan, and I’d prefer not to be humiliated while I’m doing the right thing. Any other ideas?”

“Hmm, how about: stop being such a drama queen?”

“Absolutely terrible. What else?”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi almost pleaded, but it was drowned out by Makki and Mattsun’s hearty laughter in the not-so-background, “don’t be a baby. Sure, okay, Kageyama embarrassing himself was his fault but he went through with it in the end, right? He could've taken the cake back and ran away or maybe even thrown it in our faces when we laughed at him, but he didn’t, so why don’t you meet his embarrassment halfway? You said this was to repay him, right? So repay him. For both the gift and the humiliation.”

That was also a terrible idea, but Oikawa didn’t say so this time because it made sense. Oikawa had seen several of Kageyama’s faces before—blank, angry [he saw that a lot], focused, intimidated—but he’d never actually seen him embarrassed, never had a reason to until that moment. Oikawa didn’t ask for it but it happened, and a debt was never repaid until it was paid in full; he knew that. And he was a good person so he also had to acknowledge that.

But before he could officialize his defeat via a little whine about how he hated it when Iwaizumi actually said something smart, he was interrupted by the abrupt swinging open of a door, an exaggerated gasp, and a too-loud cry of:

“THIEF!”

It took all he had not to chuck his phone across the room and against the wall; when he turned to the door he was greeted by the sight of Sawamura, the libero, the spiker with the shaved head, and Refreshing-kun, the rest of their team behind them, all gaping at him like he was some sort of three-headed beast, and given that he was standing in their private locker room which was supposed to be—well, private, he may as well have been.

_Well, shit._

“Oikawa?” Sawamura started, looking thoroughly surprised, but before he could say anything else, Tanaka was menacingly approaching the intruder.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” he said, what was earlier his face of utter shock now having transformed into one that was purely confrontational. Next to him, the tiny Nishinoya was sporting the same expression. “Seijoh’s captain getting revenge on our team just because we beat them at the Spring High?”

“You know, when we lost to you at the Inter High, we weren’t this petty,” said Nishinoya pointedly.

"What?" Oikawa demanded, genuinely confused, but then their accusation was sinking in and his fear and apprehension were melting and changing into pure exasperation. “No! I’m not here to steal from you. What would I even steal?”

“Oh? Then I suppose you just went all the way here from Seijoh during our practice, forced our club room open with your expert lock-picking skills, and snuck inside to leave your precious kouhai Kageyama a Christmas gift, _hmm?_ ”

Oikawa opened his mouth to speak, came up blank, and promptly closed it again.

“I mean, it _is_ Kageyama's birthday today,” Refreshing-kun chimed in, staring almost curiously at Oikawa and the bag in his hands.

Oikawa had to resist the urge to conceal it behind his back as the two ruffians seemed to jolt and stare at the bag as though it was another kind of three-headed beast and he was briefly reminded of his own friends, the comedy duo always flanking Iwaizumi whenever it came to making jabs at his personality.

“Wait,” Nishinoya said, “so you actually _are_ here to leave Kageyama a gift? For his birthday?”

He’d absolutely hated the idea of Tobio’s teammates finding out about his little endeavor and so having to tell them personally about it was another deeper, much more painful kind of jab at his person altogether, but there was no hiding his paper bag and so Oikawa let out another exasperated sigh. “Yes,” he said, curtly, “now if you’d be so kind as to tell me which locker is Tobio’s, I can get to it and be on my way.”

Tanaka eyed him suspiciously for a brief moment, but then he was pointing to a locker at the far corner of the room, and Oikawa thought maybe they weren’t as bad as he’d made them out to be. “That one. That one’s Kageyama’s,” he said helpfully.

“Tanaka, that’s your locker.”

“ _Suga-san!_ It could have worked!”

Okay, scratch that. These guys had to be worse than Makki and Mattsun had ever been in the three years they’d known each other. 

Sawamura only sent him a disappointed frown before putting on a friendlier demeanor. “We were actually planning on taking him out for some snacks after practice,” he told Oikawa, and the latter nodded thoughtfully; if they were to take the gift now, he thought, they could give it to Kageyama themselves later and this would all be much, much easier, “but I guess you could have him for a little while before we all go.”

“Thank—wait, _what?”_ Oikawa cried, staring wide-eyed at Sawamura who was now casually ushering everyone out of the club room. “Sawamura-kun, I never said I wanted to spend time with him! If you could just tell me where his locker is, I can leave this there and you can all go get some snacks right away—or better yet, since you already know, here, why don’t you give it to him—“

“No, really, it’s okay,” Sawamura said, raising a hand as if to appease Oikawa’s worries, but it only frazzled Oikawa even further to see how easily the fact that _he absolutely didn’t want to interact with Tobio for this_ sailed over the guy’s head. “He’s still in the gym right now probably fighting Hinata but we can call him over here for you.” _What._ “Come on, guys. Leave Oikawa alone for a while.”

At this point there were sirens ringing in Oikawa’s head, telling him that danger was coming and that now was the time to run for his life, and in his bothered state of mind, he didn’t even register the rest of the team’s intrigued stares or Suga’s knowing, “Good luck!” All he knew was that he was all alone in the room again—the silence weighing heavy on his shoulders and heart—left to wait for the arrival of the very person he told himself he refused to see today.

Okay, this was fine, he told himself, clutching his phone and the bag tight in each of his hands. Things hadn’t exactly gone according to plan but that was fine. He was going to be completely calm about this and he was absolutely not going to freak out the moment Kageyama Tobio walked through that door. He was going to smoothly hand the bag over, explain himself as concisely as possible before marching out of the locker room with as much dignity as he could, and then it would all be done, over with—completely, _absolutely fine._

Swallowing almost audibly in the silent room, Oikawa clutched the bag even tighter. From what he’d seen the gym wasn’t that far off from here and Tobio had to be coming any minute now or, at the very least, had to have been informed that there was something he needed to go see in the clubroom all alone. He wondered if Tobio would be surprised at all, if any of this would even be appreciated, and if Tobio would acknowledge all the hard work he’d put into being visible on his special day, just like Tobio had been visible for his.

He wondered what would even really happen, how Tobio would react. He wondered if Tobio would feel the same awe Oikawa had felt receiving an entire cake, would feel the same heat crawling on the skin of his cheeks and neck.

And after a few more moments of silence, he wondered when Tobio would actually _fucking get here._

He wasn’t so inclined to check but Oikawa was sure at least five minutes had already passed—of him standing in the middle of the room, of waiting for someone he didn’t want to see—and quickly, surely, he had reached the point of impatience. Suspicion, even. For all he knew, this was a practical joke and he was waiting for nothing or they’d all gone out for snacks and had decided to lock him inside the room, an oblivious idiot, until they got back.

The moment it crossed his mind was the moment he questioned why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. Of _course_ none of them were taking him seriously. How could he have expected otherwise?

No way in hell was Oikawa letting a bunch of evil birds get the best of him—no way, no how. All traces of nervousness now replaced by a sudden urge to put these uncultured swine in their place, Oikawa huffed, marched for the door in strides that were loud and firm enough to echo, prepared to yank it open and charge for the people who _dared_ to mess with him.

But then it was swinging open without his prompting and in a split second, his eyes had caught a trace of messy black hair and furrowed eyebrows and then he was making an embarrassing noise, backpedaling without really thinking about it, and turning on his heel so that his face was to the wall instead of directly in the line of sight of the boy who’d just come into the room with picture perfect timing, the boy who happened to be celebrating his birthday today.

_Absolutely fine._

Now when Kageyama had been told that a surprise was waiting for him in the club room, he’d expected to see a wide variety of things, ranging from a mediocrely-set party to a degrading poster of him that Tsukishima thought would be funny to create and hang on the wall. Never in a million years would he have expected to see someone with fly-away hair wearing Aoba Johsai’s signature colors standing in the middle of the room with his back turned.

He had to blink himself into reality before he could even manage to stutter out, “O—Oikawa-san?”

There was no sound or movement for a while and Kageyama was just beginning to consider the fact that it was a cardboard cutout he was speaking to when Oikawa breathed out, sounding defeated. “Hello, Tobio-chan,” he greeted, though it didn’t sound very friendly, as he slowly turned to finally reveal his face. He looked bothered and refused to meet Kageyama’s eyes.

This was high on the list of things Kageyama would have never expected and so the stiffness of his limbs was probably justified. He stood by the doorway, unmoving for a while, until he was glancing from Oikawa to the door, wondering if he should enter the room and close it for privacy, enter the room and leave it open because _privacy for what?_ or slam it shut and flee back into the safety of the gym.

The last would have been rude, and so he decided to get some preliminary inquiries out of the way instead. “What are you doing here?” he asked cautiously, and settled for entering the room while leaving the door slightly ajar—not too private, but not exposed to the outside world either.

Oikawa briefly chewed at his lip, staring up at the ceiling instead, and this had to be the most uneasy Kageyama had ever seen him. It didn’t help his own anxiety. “Okay, so—“ Oikawa began, looking almost pained, “remember in July when you were an idiot and bought a cake and then forced it on me?”

That was the absolute worst way he could have worded that [Kageyama frowned at him], but mostly, he couldn’t believe Oikawa still remembered it, bothered to talk about it. It had been painfully embarrassing for the both of them—Kageyama especially—and the minute they separated, it felt as though they’d signed an unspoken agreement to leave it as a thing of the past, something not worth storing in whatever vault held their memories.

But then Oikawa’s voice replayed in his head: timid, completely calm, _“When’s yours? Your birthday,”_ and suddenly everything made sense—why he was at Karasuno today of all days, why he was bringing up the mishap of July 20 th, why he had a little bag he was hiding slightly behind his back. Oikawa remembered his birthday and was going to give him a present.

_Oikawa was going to give him a present._

The mere thought of it had him wanting to curl up and bury himself under the covers of his bed, but he was standing here now, this was happening, and Oikawa was waiting for his response. Having completely forgotten about the horrible choice of words, he nodded, desperate to keep his excitement at a minimum.

Both of them were filled to the brim with agitation at this point and Oikawa’s manifested in the toothless grin he sported, one that looked too nervous to be his. “Well—guess what day it is?” There was a pause; Kageyama could have sworn he’d cringed at his own question. “I mean—of course you know what day it is; why did I even say that? It’s your birthday! Yay! So I—uh.”

He seemed to take a breath to calm himself down, brought his fingers up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. And then he was glaring at Kageyama as he usually did—only now, he wasn’t angry about Kageyama being a genius, but holding up a paper bag for him to take. “So I got you a present,” he finished.

Kageyama was a genius alright, but if there was anything he _wasn’t_ good at it was basic human interaction. The upperclassman he’d looked up to, lost to, then thoroughly defeated was personally handing him a gift for his birthday and he had no idea what kind of face to wear, what to even do. He eyed the bag, fingers twitching slightly with the desire to take it, but found he couldn’t quite move, was unable to react like a normal person would when receiving an actual, concrete present from somebody that they held on a high pedestal.

Then again, this probably _was_ the normal reaction to such an occurrence.

Nobody could keep Oikawa waiting for long, however. He no longer seemed as rattled as earlier [maybe all of his nerves had flown away and settled into Kageyama; that would explain why the latter felt like a marble statue] and found it in himself to step forward. Kageyama flinched slightly as he approached, silently gasped as he gently—but with purpose—shoved the bag against Kageyama’s chest.

Left with no choice but to move now, Kageyama managed to cradle the bag in his hands so that Oikawa could release it without having it drop pathetically to the ground. He still couldn’t quite make words or construct a different expression, but he did look down at the thing, Christmas-themed and tightly sealed with tape. He could only peer down at the tiny gaps in the opening, trying to find out what exactly Oikawa had gotten him without seeming overexcited.

What could he say now?

He remembered briefly how Oikawa had reacted when he’d been given the accidental cake—how in one way or another, they’d ended up yelling at each other for no legitimate reason, and he honestly couldn’t decide what was better: that, or this undisturbed silence. Kageyama looked up again, studying Oikawa’s face—lips slightly pouting, eyes trained on the ground—and remembered that there was something he’d said right before they parted ways, something that surprised Kageyama in ways that it really shouldn’t have, and he figured that saying it back was the only proper thing to do at this point.

When he took a breath to say his piece, Oikawa looked up at him finally, almost curiously, as if eager to know what heart-felt words would leave his sealed lips.

“Thanks.”

There were several beats of silence.

And then Oikawa was scowling like Kageyama had spat in his face instead. “’Thanks’?” he echoed, loud enough that Kageyama figured if his teammates were outside eavesdropping, they’d hear it loud and clear. He took a wary step back, like Oikawa was some sort of bomb starting to make beeping noises. “That’s all you have to say to me right now? _Thanks?”_

Kageyama would have argued that there really wasn’t anything else he could say, but apparently Oikawa wasn’t quite finished. “I’ve spent months formulating this little scheme, bought you a gift and wrapped it, traveled from Seijoh all the way here instead of spending the afternoon with my friends, picked the lock to your clubroom despite the potential arrest—“ Kageyama’s eyebrows rose “—fell into the clutches of the hooligans you call comrades—and by the way, your teammates are the _worst_ , Tobio-chan—“ Well, he really couldn’t argue with that “—all just to repay you for that completely accidental cake you bought in July, and this is all I get? _Thanks?”_

It had been far too long since he’d heard Oikawa go on tirade and he couldn’t help the unpleasant face he was making. “Sorry,” he said, and his frown grew deeper as Oikawa rolled his eyes. Kageyama didn’t blame him; it sounded almost as noncommittal as ‘thanks’. “What do you even want me to do?”

Oikawa let out a one-syllable laugh, like Kageyama had just asked the dumbest question in the entirety of the vast universe, but then he was looking away again and crossing his arms and it was growing quiet, almost as if he really was giving a lot of thought to having Kageyama do something that would make up for his social inadequacy. And shortly, he was giving a stubborn little ‘hmph’.

“Well,” he said, in a tone of voice that Kageyama hadn’t heard since junior high, “if you really were a good kouhai, you’d give me a thank-you kiss.”

_…what?_

Kageyama’s heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. _A thank-you kiss._ He honestly didn’t put it past Oikawa to ask for something so ridiculous, but he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the idea. Him? _Kissing Oikawa?_ Maybe it would be fine if he was still twelve and hanging onto Oikawa’s every word like it gave him life, but they were older now and their relationship was more complex than ever, and it left absolutely no openings for interactions of natures similar to a _kiss_. Hell, Kageyama wasn’t even sure if Oikawa _liked_ him.

But he asked for it. Sure, he was presenting it as more of a challenge than anything else, but he was asking for it, and that meant that he wanted it, right? Or at least genuinely thought that it would equal all of the hard work he’d apparently put into getting Kageyama this gift. Kageyama never had to kiss anyone outside his immediate family before, but he supposed it wouldn’t be any different from kissing his mother right before she left for work.

Right?

So, in the hope that Oikawa would no longer be frustrated with him, Kageyama stepped forward, angled his head up, and pressed his lips briefly against Oikawa’s cheek. And when he pulled away, he looked Oikawa straight in the eyes, and said, more earnestly this time, “Thank you, Oikawa-san.”

There was silence again [they seemed to be really good at keeping that up] and the lack of noise only made Kageyama more aware of the sudden heat inside the room, of the sudden heat on the skin of his face. Oikawa’s cheek had been nice and soft, scent pleasant, just like his mother’s, but no matter how hard he tried to think that it was the same, that it was just a little show of affection, he couldn’t shake the overly-giddy feelings that seemed to be making his heart swell like never before. It was physically the same with kissing his family, sure, but it was _different._

And it was _good._

Plagued with odd thoughts and the sensation of Oikawa’s skin on his lips and why he liked it so much and how much he _kind of_ wanted to feel it again, Kageyama stiffened up considerably—especially when Oikawa had turned beet red [ _beet red,_ not at all subtle] and covered his mouth with both hands, whispering, “Oh my god…” against his palm.

It didn’t help that he turned around and swiftly started pacing around the room like Kageyama had just plunged them all to their deaths. “Oh my god, oh my god…” he said, over and over again, and only after the fifth or so repetition did he stop—completely freeze up—before one hand left his mouth to gingerly touch his own cheek where Kageyama’s kiss lingered.

This was more nerve-wracking than anything Kageyama had ever been faced with, and he himself felt like he’d just kick-started the apocalypse. “What?”

Oikawa gawked at him, eyes wild. “ _You actually did it, holy shit, I was joking,_ ” he practically screamed, both hands pressing against his flushed face, and an inexplicable dread was rushing into Kageyama, like his toss had just cost Karasuno an entire match. “ _Are you an idiot? Why would you—I mean, I was_ clearly— _that wasn’t supposed to—I didn’t think you’d—“_

His lack of eloquence was enough to induce a similar type of breakdown in Kageyama; he clutched at the bag in his hands like it was the only thing that would help him remember to breathe, to regulate himself despite knowing that _Oikawa had only been joking and he actually took it seriously oh, no—_ _“How was I supposed to know you were joking?”_ he demanded.

“I thought it was _obvious,_ I mean—I wouldn’t—“ Kageyama wasn’t used to hearing Oikawa spout so many unfinished sentences, and he could only swallow as Oikawa further tensed, gave up trying to be coherent altogether, and simply ran his hands across his face, absolutely embarrassed gaze only visible through the small gaps between his fingers.

Kageyama himself wanted to sink into the floor, the weight of his inability to differentiate banter from instruction crushing his chest and shoulders. He couldn’t even try to guess what Oikawa was thinking and feeling at this point; he could only focus on the alarming pace at which his heart was beating and the slight tremble in his fingers [from embarrassment? Something else?] as silence engulfed them again.

Thankfully, this time, it was short-lived, interrupted by the door swinging open and creaking on its hinges. Sawamura’s slightly smiling face was popping up by the doorway and Kageyama had honestly never been happier to see his captain.

“Hey, um,” he started, a tad awkwardly, as if he could read the atmosphere in the room and it was taking over his conversational skills as well, “I came here to say I’m really gonna need to close the clubroom soon. That, and we heard yelling from downstairs so the others sent me up to check if things are going okay.” He studied them, both uncharacteristically quiet. “ _Are_ you okay? You both look really red.”

Kageyama inwardly cursed at the fact that his face was visibly flushed to others, and was glad when Oikawa took it upon himself to answer for the both of them, albeit with a single hand still in front of his mouth. “No, we’re fine,” he said, but he was staring at the lockers to his right like he couldn’t afford to do anything else and his cheeks really were rose-colored. Pretty, Kageyama thought, but then he wanted to slap himself all over again, had to rapidly turn his head in order to look away.

Sawamura didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press the issue further. “That’s good, I guess. I’m sorry I have to cut your alone time short. But hey, if you want more time to talk, the team’s throwing a small Christmas party on the evening of the 24th,” he said instead, and Oikawa before them was frowning in an almost appalled and nervous way. “It’s just going to be us and a few other guys from another team that—well, they like parties. You should come; it’ll be fun. You can invite the other guys from your team too.”

It honestly wouldn’t be a surprise if Oikawa had flat-out rejected the offer, much like he did whenever Kageyama so much as tried to speak to him, and part of Kageyama wished he would. It would be incredibly difficult to face him just mere days after today and he wasn’t sure how well Oikawa would take a liking to his team’s antics along with Johzenji’s anyway [why they were coming was an entirely different story, and irrelevant at the moment].

Part of him, however, wished to see Oikawa again and in a somehow casual, more relaxed setting, and something inside him seemed to spring to life when Oikawa gave a crooked smile. “Yeah, no, I’ll—I’ll tell them.”

“Great! See you then,” Sawamura said, and then he was nudging at Kageyama with his elbow. “Hey, Kageyama, have you thanked Oikawa for the gift?”

If only he knew, thought Kageyama, how thoroughly he had embarrassed himself in an effort to properly thank Oikawa for the gift, but he simply nodded, not wanting to make this meeting any more agonizing than it already was.

The only way to do that was to just end it, probably, and Oikawa looked just about ready to. “Thanks for letting me give it to him, Sawamura-kun,” he said, a little hurriedly, “I’m just—gonna go now.”

“Are you sure? You could come with us to get snacks, if you want—“

“ _No,_ ” he pressed, and Kageyama would have been offended if he didn’t sympathize so much; conversation with the rest of the club after something like this was going to be hell. Oikawa started to make his way towards the door. “No, it’s fine, we’re good, your team should go out to celebrate. Really.”

That was that, probably, but just as Kageyama thought he was finally going to leave and the peace would be restored in their once-sacred clubroom, Oikawa was placing a single hand on his shoulder and it had to be the closest he'd ever been to Oikawa while staring into his eyes.

And Oikawa was staring back.

“Happy birthday, Tobio-chan,” he said. Kageyama felt his fingers squeeze just a little bit tighter. “Have a good rest of the day.”

As he brought his hand down, it was as if they reverted back to junior high—that same surge of excitement rushing into Kageyama like when he first saw Oikawa serve or when he was first brought into the court—and unbeknownst to him, his eyes grew wide, positively gleaming, and all they could see was Oikawa, for once looking at him without a fake smile or a glare screaming bloody murder.

But all at once, he was back in the present, and his gaze was leveled and directed at Oikawa, who was—like he'd always dreamed—regarding him as an equal and not a persistent, pitiful underclassman. “Thank you,” he said, thoroughly able to ignore whatever insects were dancing in the pit of his stomach. “You too, Oikawa-san.”

Without another word, Oikawa fled the scene, and only Daichi was around to see the smile on Kageyama’s face: eyebrows furrowed as he stared down at the paper bag Oikawa gave, curling his lips almost awkwardly like it was all he could do not to explode from joy.

 

* * *

 

It was done. It was finally done, over with, absolutely fine, and now all that was left to do was conquer the rest of the commute home trying not to think about what an idiot Tobio truly was, trying not to find him completely adorable, trying not to dwell too much on the feeling of his lips on Oikawa’s cheek, trying _desperately_ to push thoughts of this encounter away because, honestly, at this point, Oikawa didn’t know how much he would be able to take, wondered if he would survive another few hours without imploding.

But apparently, the aftermath would be a whole lot worse than he thought. He’d barely distanced himself from Karasuno’s school gates when, suddenly, there was a snort coming from the hand he was using to hold his phone, bringing his walk to a screeching halt.

And then the condescending laughter was back in his ears.

He was sure he could feel himself physically aging up twenty years in advance at this point, especially when he brought his phone screen to life and discovered that the call with Iwaizumi was still very much active, and had been for the entirety of that encounter with the rest of Karasuno, and the even worse encounter with Tobio, one he’d sworn to himself would never reach anyone else’s ears.

_Well, SHIT._

“Ohh my god, that was good, so good.” Hanamaki was evidently having a hard time getting words out in between his guffaws, but like the achiever he was, he managed it and managed it well.

“It was like listening to a radio show!” said Matsukawa.

“I have no idea how we managed to stay quiet!”

“Makki,” said Iwaizumi, the laughter in his voice evident, “you looked like you were dying when Sawamura tried to give them time alone.”

“Oikawa sounded so scared; it was hilarious!”

If his parents wouldn’t call him reckless for showing up at home with a phone ripped into two, Oikawa would have crushed the thing with his bare hands alone. “ _You assholes,_ ” he yelled into it instead, “ _you actually kept the call on that entire time? Why didn’t you hang up?”_

The laughter didn’t stop despite the legitimate frustration and anger he’d desperately tried to convey. “And miss the airing of the Drama CD? We wouldn’t dare!” Mattsun replied, and Iwaizumi and Hanamaki seemed to enter their own individual fits of hysteria in the background; Oikawa would have been afraid that they were going to forget how to breathe had he not been so _infuriated_.

“ _I hate you all._ ”

“No, you don’t,” Makki corrected, still lightly chuckling, “you love us. And it’s _because_ you love us that you’re going to take us to their Christmas party on the 24th.”

“Makki, _no_.”

“Makki, _yes_.”

_“No.”_

“Oh, come on, we all know you’re looking for a legitimate reason to see Kageyama again.”

“I am not!"

“Of course you are! Admit it; you liked that.”

“ _What?”_

“He kissed you and you liked it. You want him to do it again.”

“No, I don’t!”

“You do.”

“I _don’t,_ ” said Oikawa, with finality, “and I am no longer friends with you heathens. I’m hanging up, goodbye.”

“Aw, but Oikawa, _if you really were a good kouhai—“_

Oikawa didn’t bother just ending the call; he shut his phone off altogether, pocketed it as he tried to resist the urge to stuff his head inside his own schoolbag as he walked home.

**Author's Note:**

> see you in a couple of days lmao b y e
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [talk to me i'm lonely](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kakkoweeb/profile)


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